G.S. Oldman

Goodreads Author

G. S. Oldman is a cranky Midwest reclusive who tries to forget that he once published poems and essays in zines that barely existed, then remembers that he also wrote for newspapers and contributed to journals like Thrasher, No Mag, Forced Exposure, Flipside and Option. He also won’t divulge the number of Midwest motorcycles or skateboards he’s destroyed, nor will he mention having filled spaces in X-rated prose and film scripts without having to take his clothes off. In the 1990s, he did time in the backrooms of arts and music promotion in Austin, TX because someone needed to write those blurbs, bios and phony reviews. After Hurricane Katrina, he escaped back to the heartland where all hell did not break loose, and no one could hang the wrG. S. Oldman is a cranky Midwest reclusive who tries to forget that he once published poems and essays in zines that barely existed, then remembers that he also wrote for newspapers and contributed to journals like Thrasher, No Mag, Forced Exposure, Flipside and Option. He also won’t divulge the number of Midwest motorcycles or skateboards he’s destroyed, nor will he mention having filled spaces in X-rated prose and film scripts without having to take his clothes off. In the 1990s, he did time in the backrooms of arts and music promotion in Austin, TX because someone needed to write those blurbs, bios and phony reviews. After Hurricane Katrina, he escaped back to the heartland where all hell did not break loose, and no one could hang the wreck of the Deepwater Horizon on him. He now lives somewhere in Michigan searching for secret U-boat bases. ...more

It’s a raging old question, I wager, and one that’ll get a person deeper into trouble as easily as give them a sane way out. Trust me; I know this; and Kurt; and Vonnegut ain’t gonna tell me no different.

In a nutshell, audiobook production is nothing to be taken lightly. It can be as formulaic as mundane writing or brilliant as a wild venture that, even with odds supp...

A tough one here. I tend to find most of the world’s disappointment stored in the ideas of “positivity!” and “inspirational!” Not because they set up impossible rewards on ABSOLUTELY-EVERY-THING-HOLY-COWLY-A-RAMA (but cuz days usually start in the crA tough one here. I tend to find most of the world’s disappointment stored in the ideas of “positivity!” and “inspirational!” Not because they set up impossible rewards on ABSOLUTELY-EVERY-THING-HOLY-COWLY-A-RAMA (but cuz days usually start in the crappiest of ways, so namaste-in-bed, dig?)! It’s fine to look on the bright side of events and emotions, if you can, especially when they involve upheaval. Life is what it is when it is, and what it ain’t when it ain’t. End of story? Sure. Positivism is merely a dynamic, much the way negativism is, and neither requires being defined as an element unless a specific case needs to be made. Then you let ‘er rip.

There’s often more inspiration in the worst that can happen. Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road” is a screw-properness-and-none-dare-call-it-dystopian story. The worst has happened and all that’s left is whatever will continue happening come hell, fire, discovery, loss, possibility, revenge, compassion, decay, time. It’s what made the world jump off its own mountain since there were only so many hens capable of laying on golden plates before reason, balance and promises failed. Then we’re goners lucky to find a way to walk forward if backward no longer exists. It may be the sourest of chances but, no matter how bad it looks, the shadow of doubt at the crossroads could offer the only chance you will have. Life is not required to give even breaks.

In the words of W. C. Fields: “When we have lost everything, including hope, life becomes a disgrace, and death a duty.”...more

Why the hell did I give this gonzo gram-goober 5 stars? Easy. It’s proof that Timothy Leary could make sense when he said, “Why not?” Yep. Easy as that. Kerouac, love him or hate him, did too, and John Steinbeck pulled off the same thing on a much laWhy the hell did I give this gonzo gram-goober 5 stars? Easy. It’s proof that Timothy Leary could make sense when he said, “Why not?” Yep. Easy as that. Kerouac, love him or hate him, did too, and John Steinbeck pulled off the same thing on a much larger, drugless level. And maybe that’s the point. You can do what you can do where you can do it without anyone knowing what the hell you’re doing or why. Getting caught up in perfection’s perfidies is always a bad idea.

I read “Fear and Loathing…” when I was in Las Vegas one ancient summer on a trip that had no greater meaning than it being something to do at a time there was nothing else to do. It was (I think) in the early 1980s. I soberly rode into town with a friend who once was a slot machine tech. All his friends were bodyguards, wardrobe people, gamblers, game dealers, showgirls, musicians, screwballs, donut bakers, bartenders who were frying their brains out all day, all night, til they couldn’t keep their eyes open any more and didn’t care. Why not?

Drugs? Me? Not Really. Only because, even if it were true, if I say “no” here it’ll ding dang make me look stupid. And you gotta have been there anyway....more

One of the freshest novels I discovered at the local library, Antoine Wilson’s “Panorama City” was a grand read of anti-realistic proportions. There’s REALISM!, Realism, and there’s all the points in between. Someplace in that mix lies concepts thatOne of the freshest novels I discovered at the local library, Antoine Wilson’s “Panorama City” was a grand read of anti-realistic proportions. There’s REALISM!, Realism, and there’s all the points in between. Someplace in that mix lies concepts that happily defy the normal and, better yet, the un-para- and the un-normal. That’s when things get good like ‘em or not. The Shakespearean Era never meant to hold down an exclusive dynasty of literature; without leaving that acreage open, language would have easily died. Then where would we have been?

The book’s official description declares a “...blend of fool’s wisdom and deeply felt humanity...” (a statement I would have kicked the deeply and the felt from, but I can understand a review writer wanting to say that). It’s pretty on the poker table, win or lose, all bets considered. Oppen Porter is a strange character living in a modern America that has routinely disregarded suburban, middle class survival. A world where no one is really any wiser or dumber than the wise and dumb, no matter what seats they ride on their daily buses. Real estate development rose in the midst of orange groves and oil fields that became strip malls and fast food existence; no city for men or women, but for every aspect of men and women just the same.

Life would probably be just as dismal without Death as it is with it. Those who live, die, and expect to find some promise of what anything means… at all… at any time… are the arch fools of wisdom. Oppen Porter only wanted to bury his father in his own yard but sanity wouldn’t let him. Sanity thought it best to deliver him and his binoculars to his aunt in Panorama City. And sanity continually has a hard time understanding anyone’s need to breathe their own air....more

After who knows how many years of being a champion for “the classics” (as well as historic, scientific & industrial non-fiction), I one day forced myself to discover the contemporary novel. This was maybe 7-8 years ago when I saw “Stiltsville” diAfter who knows how many years of being a champion for “the classics” (as well as historic, scientific & industrial non-fiction), I one day forced myself to discover the contemporary novel. This was maybe 7-8 years ago when I saw “Stiltsville” displayed on the New Releases shelf at the local library. Why not give it a try? I’m not gonna say it blew me away but the concept of the story definitely pulled me in. And, as it turned out, a friend of mine had once lived in that part of Florida and spent some time on a stilted structure in Biscayne Bay.

It wasn’t an astounding story but it was a real story, and while I was attempting to write a “debut novel” it dropped me into the gravity of unexpected reading enjoyment—something I hadn’t experienced in way too long. There was an element of the woman’s romance genre but I’ve never let that put me into knee-jerk reactions. Face it, tons of effective children’s literature was based on romantic male and female relationships, quite often with spaceships or sailing ships. And I’ll admit to a goofy adult summer when I read a Harlequin novel just to see what they were like: a not-too-steamy foray into valleys of reliable formulas at near fisticuffs with unquenched Faustian filigrees. Of course, at the time I was also immersed in the oh-so-serious! Illuminatus! Trilogy! (I guess the teachings of ol’ Don Juan didn’t do it for me)

All things considered, a man needs guilty pleasures. Not just in literature, but in life. Sometimes they set an American life into honest perspective when sitting in a backyard that’s not yelling at you. Stiltsville is a real name and real place where local inhabitants dealt with promises that hovered above moray eels living in underwater toilets. Just like most real human lives. Shit sandwiches and marriages are not always the spiritual spasms they claim to be. They’re often the cuisine of normal buffets that have an underrated way of serving it all on the same plate… with or without soup… or salad… or satisfaction… or indigestion....more

I’m generally skeptical about rock & roll books, especially novels. It’s a myth-laden avenue of culture that’s all too easy for an author to fake. It’s possible to do a creditable job of “exposing” the myth, but such tomes usually base themselves on the worn out touchstones of a generation that sold itself out, and whose main contribution to popular music is the equally worn out “Classic Rock” genre that offers too much “Evil Ways” or “Layla” too many times a day.

Robert Paston’s “The Hour of the Innocents” doesn’t fake it. There’s nothing glamorous or easy about this story. Paston understands what the late 1960s music environment was about, and that most bands and musicians of that era had no chance to “make it.” The fact that they tried under the weights of the Vietnam War and the tight oppressions of working class sensibilities was the only real hope many of them had. Given this motivation, optimism soon became the road to pessimism.

In his book “Rock and the Pop Narcotic,” Joe Carducci convincingly made the case that all rock bands are doomed to failure. There may be exceptions but few ideas are as true as this. Face it: most musical legends of the 60s and 70s died in their heyday (or got horribly burned out), and even “The King” kicked the bucket whilst on the throne. Paston knows what it’s like to be in a working band and “The Hour of the Innocents” is written beneath the surface with details accurate enough to see and hear, and the personal relationships are as uncomfortable as ever.

In the sense that music was never meant to be perfect, this debut novel stands, slouches, hits escape velocity, and when it’s over, it’s over. Such is the nature of rock & roll and I wouldn’t have it any other way....more

Got this from a friend who lives in Sheboygan. Apparently, a revised edition was released that I haven't read. So this may be a flawed evaluation. If not, this non-fiction story is imperfect, but it's a great story on surfing in an unlikely locale. TGot this from a friend who lives in Sheboygan. Apparently, a revised edition was released that I haven't read. So this may be a flawed evaluation. If not, this non-fiction story is imperfect, but it's a great story on surfing in an unlikely locale. There's really no Hollywood version of the tale, which is a plus. The whole Go Pro, X-treme! X-citement! approach is pretty worn out in the sports world and there's no reason to expect it to make the presentation valuable. Brothers Lee and Larry Williams—the prime characters, and creators of the Dairyland Surf Classic—lived interesting lives in an interesting time when none of that recorded visual style existed. Thankfully. Physical sports involvement doesn't need to be (nor should it be) hyped.

One "faulty" aspect of the book is the lack of high quality photos. But, seriously, they're all accurate and it's lame to expect vintage events to have been recorded under current standards. Surfboards as well as the sport itself went through exceptional, non-curse based times, and that's good enough. Without accepting that, we have no business talking about the definition of history. The story is well worth the reading. Occasionally, I sensed the telling was a little overdone but that might be my own perception. Enough essential facts and details are covered to seal the deal. The unlikely elements of humanity are rich. Winter inland lake surfing is crazy enough to scare surfers at the California Malibu, but that's the Midwest for you. With the cold you still get waves, so why the hell not paddle out and enjoy what you can?...more

Yes. I read this in its entirety.Yes. I sometimes wanted to quit but glad I didn't.Yes. You can disagree and avoid me.Yes. I won't give a Bloomin' Fuck, then.Yes. It was the best of wakes. It was the worst of wakes.Yes. In less than 100 words. Yes.OhYes. I read this in its entirety.Yes. I sometimes wanted to quit but glad I didn't.Yes. You can disagree and avoid me.Yes. I won't give a Bloomin' Fuck, then.Yes. It was the best of wakes. It was the worst of wakes.Yes. In less than 100 words. Yes.Oh, Finnegan! Yes....more

Preview — Ulysses
by James Joyce

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